


Getting Clean

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Dark, Blow Jobs, Drug Addiction, FaceFucking, M/M, Police, Power Imbalance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2011-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(AU) Officer Axe gives his parolee another shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Clean

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Burn Notice Kink Meme.

He could feel the blood pumping through his veins, racing like quicksilver under his palm as he knocked viciously against the solid wooden door. A moment or two of jingling metal and his parole officer’s friendly face appears in the window. The door slides open.

“Westen?” Officer Axe stares at his face. “Oh fuck,” he murmurs. “You slipped up again, didn’t cha?”

Michael shivers, rubs his upper arms and glances hungrily around the quiet vestibule of the suburban home. “Can I come in?”

Officer Axe stepped away, allowing Michael to enter the room; he immediately pulled off his jacket and moaned as the warm air caressed his bare arms. “Nice place.”

Officer Axe had moved to the staircase directly before the front door and sat down. “You can’t keep screwing up every time I give you an inch,” he scolded.

“I tried, man,” Michael said, rushing forward, his emotions severely controlled but his eyes pleading forgiveness. “Ronnie had an amazing deal, I couldn’t just turn him down right off – the shit he had was amazing, it blew my mind!”

An open palm collided with Michael’s jaw, rocking. “Damn it, kid – I buried your dad, and I’m not gonna bury you!”

Michael rubbed his jaw with a shaking hand. “Officer Axe…”

The older man slumped against the stairs. “Told ya forty times to call me Sam.”

“Sam…I didn’t mean to make you angry,” Michael murmured, crawling toward him on his hands and knees, through the minimal distance. “Please, can I make it up to you?”

“I…” Michael’s hands reached for Sam’s fly, unzipping it. “Kid…” Michael’s shaking fingers unveiled Sam’s cock. “God, kid,” he murmured, his fingers combing through Michael’s short hair.

“Warm and strong,” Michael whispered, his stubble-coated cheeks caressing Sam’s thighs, pressing against the inner seam as he rushed his fingers up and down the older man’s firm cock.

“You don’t have to…”

“For the first time in my life I want to,” Michael whispered. Abruptly he shifted and kissed Sam’s. “So shut up and let me blow you.”

Sam shook his head. Michael’s fingers were gentle, adroit, but not what he needed. The liquid caress of his tongue was what set Sam, moaning, to lie limp against the stairs.

“Michael…” he whispered. Their eyes locked over Sam’s cock. Michael smiled, gave the tip of his lover’s cock a gentle kiss.

And took it down his throat, smoothly.

Both men knew how Michael made spare cash, the funds he needed for the meth he injected into his veins. His fingers shook, his mouth watered, and he nestled deeper into the warmth of Sam’s crotch. He kissed the rounded tip of his cock before eagerly spearing it down his throat until he gagged and came up, his hands frantically working Sam’s cock.

Michael glanced into his parole officer’s face. Sam’s expression lay plainly torn between guilt and lust, but his hips and balls worked in tandem to spear Michael back onto his prick. It didn’t take him long to grab Michael’s ears and begin fucking his face for all he was worth, and Michael stroked his tongue lightly along the underside of Sam’s prick, until he took him back down his willing throat.

Sam’s hips pounded upward in a frantic, ceaseless beat . Then his shoulders hunched, his back stiffening as he lurched forward, hips rising. His semen should have been bitter, but Michael tasted sweetness.

After a moment, Sam pushed Michael gently away. He heard the zipper rising as he caught his own, breath. Then Sam’s large, warm palm caressed his shoulder.

“Straighten up and fly right, kid,” Sam murmured. Michael knelt, submissive, at his feet, agreeing silently to do. “I’m sorry that I had to hurt you.”

Michael’s answer came from the deepest, truest part of his heart. “You could never hurt me.”


End file.
